The borders of your mind
by turtleteapot
Summary: A witch's curse forces Castiel out of his vessel's body. Fortunately, Dean is there to help, but neither of them could have expected to what this little incident would lead. Lots of PTSD, angst and blood in this fic.
1. Chapter 1

**The borders of your mind**

**Chapter**** 1.**

It was an accident, but in retrospect, Dean would always describe it as the accident that changed his life.

They'd been hunting this witch for a while. She was powerful and the antique sword she stole from that local museum made her even more dangerous, so when they cornered her in a forest and she knocked out Sam and nearly skewered Dean, the older Winchester had no other choice but to call Castiel. Little did he know how this would affect him and his relationship with the Angel.

With a flutter of wings, Dean's prayers were answered – before him stood Castiel, the fierce Angel, still radiant and full of righteous wrath, no matter how far he had fallen. In his hand was an angelblade and he wielded it with an effective elegance that never ceased to amaze the hunter, who had stepped back to care for his unconscious brother. Despite all of the witch's strength and cunning, she was no real match for her heavenly opponent. With a single fluid motion, Castiel cut her head off, and as her blood splattered across the Angel's trench coat and face, Dean detected the faintest trace of a smug smile on his friend's lips. He liked watching him like this, when he was in his element and seemed, for once, to be able to balance his identity as an Angel with his very human desires and mannerisms that had rubbed off on him.

"Thanks man, that was pretty close."

"I always come when you need me, Dean. You could have called earlier, I wouldn't have minded."

They both shared a smile then, but it was in this precise moment when something happened that neither of them could have expected. The witch's blood on Castiel's face started to glow and sizzle, obviously causing the Angel a lot of pain, and then, with a long, agonized scream, his eyes and mouth started emitting light, momentarily illuminating the whole forest, before everything went dark again and Castiel's lifeless body was sinking to the ground. The sound of his scream, however, didn't stop but it no longer sounded even remotely human. There was an eerie otherworldliness to it, and the sound caused Dean to crouch down and cover his ears, even though all he wanted was to check on his winged friend. He felt paralyzed, unable to get up or even move. The air around him was tense, almost electric and filled with something the hunter could only describe as uncontained power. Then, to his own surprise, Dean could make out words in this endless, bone-shattering scream.

"_I can't go back, Dean. I can't return to my vessel. Please, I need your help."_

The hunter understood what was happening then, what the nature of the witch's cursed blood was, and as his mumbled swearing indicated, he also knew what this meant for him and his friend.

"Take me, Cas. C'mon, before it's too late."

"No Dean, you cannot contain me. We need to find someone else. Fast!"

"Cut the crap, man! There's nobody else around and I won't let you have Sam. Just take me and be done with it, goddamnit! I was meant to be Michael's meatsuit so I'm damn sure I will survive some nerdy, little Angel."

Dean knew that Cas desperately needed a vessel. He was cut off from Heaven, lost a lot of his former strength, and without a body he would sooner or later simply cease to exist. Dean got no reply this time. Instead, he felt something warm and soft wrapping around him. He couldn't see what it was, but if he had to guess, he would have said it was Castiel's wings. The warm feeling was seeping inside of him, and while everything happened insanely fast, it still seemed like a long, drawn-out process to the hunter. He noticed a distinctive smell then, salt and ozone and –_Cas_. It was all around him, blocking out everything else, filling him with peace and then, the warmth was fully inside of him, filling out his whole body from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. For a moment, he felt more powerful than any human ever had the right to be. He knew he could crush rocks with his bare hands and distance no longer mattered to him and then, with a gasp, Dean felt a set of gigantic, smoky-black wings sprout and unfurl from his back. He could see them too, every single feather, and he enjoyed it as a soft spring breeze rustled through them. It wouldn't have taken long for the hunter to become drunk on all the power he had now, but even as he started to marvel at his new strength, he already felt his conscience being pushed somewhere in the back of his mind. Castiel was there in his thoughts, in every inch of his body. He took control then, turning Dean into a passive observer, a spectator who could only watch but never participate. The hunter didn't mind though. He felt pleasant, warm, wrapped in soothing promises and he didn't even care about that he no longer felt his own body. His angelic friend was caring for him, making this as enjoyable as possible for him. He would've been totally okay with the whole experience, if it wasn't for the metaphorical wall, standing between his mind and Castiel's, which slowly started to crumble.

"Cas? Man, what's going on? This is weird."

"_I don't know, Dean. This never happened before."_

He could hear his friend's voice coming from inside of him. There were no longer any borders between himself and the Angel. The dam was breached and the emotions came first – anger, fear, worry, affection (strong affection. _Love?_), all of them washed over Dean, nearly drowned him, and if his body still belonged to him, he wouldn't have known whether to scream, cry or hit some stupid mofo's face. Next came the memories, and they made everything so much worse, for with them came the guilt. In his mind, Dean could see millennia filled with mistakes. There were so many things Castiel regretted, so much pent-up rage, frustration and sadness, and all of it was crushing down on a simple human mind. In midst of all this chaos, of all this pain, there was only one thing that saved Dean (and presumably Castiel) from losing it, from just breaking apart. It was a small light, a glimpse of hope in a sea of regret, and the hunter clung to them. These memories, the ones that kept the Angel going, were short, seemingly insignificant compared to everything else, but they gave him enough strength to hold on. Dean could see his own face and his brother's. He could hear himself laughing, he watched as he put an arm around Castiel's shoulders and he relived every nice moment they had together.

"_It's been a long time since I've laughed that hard. Oh. It's been more than a long time. Years"_

„_I'd rather have you, cursed or not"_

For a split second, Dean understood. He understood everything - every mistake, every action. He knew why Cas had done what he did, he knew what he had given up and he desperately wanted to tell him that he understood now. He would never be able to completely forgive him, but he could accept his mistakes.

In this moment, Dean realized that he'd never been this close to someone before, not even to Sammy. He was literally sharing his body, mind and soul with Castiel. There were no borders between them. Everything he felt, the Angel felt too and vice versa, and it was then that the hunter knew what kind of intense emotions his friend harbored for him. There was nothing he could ever compare to this feeling, nothing – except for those he himself had for Castiel and could now no longer deny.

A part of him wanted to stay like this, connected to his friend, knowing everything he did, but the pain of Castiel's grace slowly ripping apart his body and his memories crushing his mind were more than he could survive for long. Then, all of a sudden, everything was over again. The Angel's warmth inside of him was gone, as was their connection and all those emotions. He was alone again in his body, with only the searing pain left to keep him company. In front of him, he could see Castiel slowly getting to his feet. They watched each other, not really knowing what to say. It was hard to find words when you just shared the whole essence of what you are.

"Is it always like this, Cas?"

"No, it's never like this. Usually I would have pushed your mind back and taken over control of everything. There would've been a wall between us, shielding you from me and keeping my memories and emotions away from you."

"Then what happened?"

"Maybe it was the cursed blood. I will have to find it out later. I also do not yet understand how we lifted the curse. It just seemed to disappear, but for now we should be content with what we have."

Dean watched as Castiel gently caressed his cheek with his thumb, softly stroking over the wounds his grace tore into the hunter's body, and healing them in the process. They shared a quick smile, brief enough to be barely noticeable but still there.

"You know, man, I think we should wake Sammy up and get back to the motel. I could do with a little rest."

"I agree, and I would like to talk to you, Dean."

"We're talking now, Constantine."

"I believe you know what I mean after everything you've seen…felt…experienced. Also, I don't like it when you compare me to characters in movies."

"I know, Cas. I understand now."

And he did.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2.**

In the end, their talk hadn't turned out as expected.  
Knowing about the feelings they had for each other was one thing, but actually putting words to them was a different story entirely, so while Sam was in the shower, they just avoided looking at each other and kept their mouths shut. Neither of them was ready to break the awkward silence, and when they heard Sam turning off the water, Cas got up and just disappeared in a flutter of wings. Dean would've been seriously unhappy about this, he actually had a curse or two on his lips, just waiting to spill out, but instead of just expressing his frustration, he gasped in surprise.

"Dude, what's the matter? You look like you just saw a ghost."

Sam was standing in the doorframe, wearing a fresh set of levis und an old, worn-out shirt that was damp at the shoulders where it came in contact with his wet hair. Steam was swirling out of the bathroom, indicating that the younger Winchester must've used up most of them hot water. Dean didn't mind though, not after seeing how badly his little brother was hurt by the witch. Cas had done his best to heal him, but he wasn't as powerful as he used to be. Besides, at the moment Dean was way too occupied with staring at the empty space where moments before the Angel had stood.

"I've seen ghosts before, Sammy, but what I saw just now was a first."

Blinking a few times, he turned to his brother, who was now busy drying his hair with one of those old as fuck towels that were more grey than white.

"Mind filling me in? Something Cas did?"

"Uh…in a way, yeah. Man, I can hardly believe it myself but…his wings. I just saw his goddamn wings. No shadows, but proper filling-out-the-damn-motel-room-huge wings."

Sam stared at him, disbelieving with a frown on his face that said "don't you dare shitting me", and Dean couldn't even blame him for his skepticism. He wouldn't have just believed it this easily either.

"You sure about that, Dean? Wasn't there something about only _special_ people being able to see an Angel's true form?"

"I'm telling you, man, I'm 100% positive I saw his wings. I mean, it was only for a second but you can't help noticing two huge, black wings when they just suddenly appear in the room. He looked all normal otherwise, no burning-out-your-eyes true form or something. Just Cas with wings."

"Today's one hell of a weird day."

Dean couldn't agree more with his brother. Sighing, he ran a hand through his short hair, still trying to come to terms with everything that had happened. It was already dark outside and their room was only illuminated by a bare light bulb and the streetlights. The motel they stayed in was of the particularly shabby kind, but it worked for the brothers and they would leave on the next day anyway. The older of the brothers got out two bottles of warm beer from his duffle bag, tossing one to Sam who caught it skillfully with his left hand and used one of the drawer's edges to open it. Dean had to admit it was a pretty cool move for his pretty little princess of a brother. He opened his own bottle then, the normal way because he wasn't in the mood for showing off, but the first gulp wasn't providing him with the distinctive satisfaction cold beer gave you after a long, hard day.

"Shit's fucking disgusting"

"Better than nothing. Tomorrow we can get proper beer."

They decided to wind up the evening with their warm beers and watching TV. There was some old Bruce Willis action flick on, which was nothing remarkable but good enough for distraction. Sam asked what happened while he was out, but Dean didn't really feel in the mood for talking and besides, he had no words to explain what he and Cas experienced anyway. He promised to explain everything tomorrow, hoping he might be able to sort out his thoughts by then, and Sam, for once, was satisfied with the answer he got and didn't pry any further. In moments like this one, Dean was truly happy to have a brother like Sam - someone who understood him on this very elementary level, knowing always when to give him his time and when to get on his nerves instead. He smiled a little to himself then, put down the empty bottle and declared he'd go to sleep now. It was well after midnight after all and he had a long drive before him. Throwing himself face-down on the bed, Dean hoped he'd just fall asleep. He figured answers to all of his current problems would come in his dreams, but his mind apparently wasn't ready to shut down for the night. The heat was bothering him too. It was summer and the motel room didn't have AC. Opening the window wouldn't do any good either since it was even hotter outside than in here. All in all, it seemed to the older Winchester like this night just really wanted to fuck with him. He hadn't been able to sort things out with Cas, he was running away from his own – _Screw that_!

He stopped his trail of thoughts then. He just wasn't ready for the feelings-shit and both Sammy and the goddamn Angel would just have to deal with it. He couldn't change who he was and Dean Winchester just didn't do this chick flick crap. What he did was hunting and killing – that's what he was always good at, and he'd continue doing precisely this. There was no need for complicating things, no need to fix something that was working, and things with Cas were working just fine. They each went their separate ways and only got together when they needed help. It was okay like that. Sure, Dean couldn't deny that he had thought about the Angel in a very unprofessional way, but really, a guy like him was better off without getting involved with a millennia-old supernatural creature. In the end, it would only lead to pain, so there was really no need for changing anything about their relationship.  
With these thoughts on his mind, Dean was finally able to sleep.

Things weren't ideal, they'd never be, but he hoped Cas would understand. He'd seen his mind after all, so if anyone would understand, it would be him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3.**

The next day Dean and Sam were driving north. The windows of the Impala were all open to let in a little cool air and loud music was blaring from the speakers, making it impossible to have a decent conversation. They'd been driving for hours and Sam had, to his brother's great surprise, not once broached the subject of what had happened the previous day. Dean wondered if his discomfort was this visible or if his brother had other reasons. Whatever it was, it stopped him from thinking straight so he decided to get this shit over with.

"You know, what happened yesterday is pretty hard to explain."

"I…uh…figured."

"The witch's blood was cursed or something and when he killed her, it forced Cas out of his meatsuit and he was kinda just there, in the air around us, just raw power. Problem was that he can no longer survive without a body for long, being cut off from Heaven and all, so he took my body."

Sam stared at his brother like he was completely out of his mind, like he had just declared he would give up hunting to write purple prose about Vikings and virgins. There was shock in his eyes, and disbelieving, but most of all worry.

"What the hell were you two thinking? You're not his vessel! He could've killed you!"

"Calm down, Sammy. It was my idea and I'm fine now. It was only for a short time anyway and he healed my wounds afterwards."

"Don't tell me it's nothing, Dean. I've been Lucifer's vessel, I know what it's like. I know what this does to you, being unable to control your own body, having all this power inside you that slowly crushes your mind. I've been there, Dean, so don't pretend you're fine."

Sam's voice became all agitated and for a moment it seemed to Dean like he could actually see an old wound of his brother breaking open. He didn't like thinking about what Sam had endured to save the world. Even though Cas had taken away his memories of Hell, he was still somewhat broken. There were all those scars on his soul, each of them telling their own story, and apparently Dean's experience had ripped one of them open again.  
He shouldn't have told him.  
Feelings really got you nowhere.

"Look Sam, it was different with Cas. Sure, it hurt like a bitch and I guess my mind would've been crushed if it wasn't for…well…for finding a way to deal. Any anyway, it was only for a short time and I'm okay. No need to get all anxious here, princess."

Okay so he probably shouldn't have said that last sentence because he could see Sam's face out of the corner of his eyes and he looked so goddamn hurt it actually made his own heart ache too.

"Shit Sammy, forget what I just said, okay? It wasn't bad, just unusual and I'm okay. I just really want to find out what kind of curse this was. Would suck balls if it happened again, wouldn't it? We need Mr. Feathers on our team."

"Where's he anyway? I figured he'd stay with us for a little longer."

"Why the heck should I know?"

Dean was at a loss of words. How could he possibly explain what happened, or rather didn't happen but should have? Letting out a low grunt, he thought about these past months. Ever since getting out of Purgatory, he had spent an awful lot of time with Castiel. The Angel had mentioned this bond they shared a long time ago, but being constantly stuck together and protecting each other from the terrors that lurked in Purgatory had only intensified whatever they had. The constant danger also forced Castiel to recover his sanity and once again become the warrior he was made to be, no matter how much he despised it. Dean had never told his brother what exactly happened there, in this dark place full where every creature could tear an Angel to shreds and utterly annihilate him. He just wasn't able to put words to what he experienced, but it had soon become blatant to Sam that the relationship his older brother had with Castiel had somehow changed. Ever since getting out of Purgatory, the Angel had spent more time with them, becoming increasingly more human with every month that went by. In a way, he was just as broken as the Winchesters and Sam really couldn't deny some sort of mental family resemblance between the three of them.

They drove on in silence. Cruel, merciless sunlight was shining straight through the windshield, heating up the wheel and making Dean's fingers all hot and sweaty. Even though their way took them north, it didn't exactly get any cooler and eventually they were forced to take a lengthy break. They parked the car near a small lake and had lunch (sandwiches) in the shadow of a tree. It was peaceful here. Despite the beauty of the place, there were no other people around. The lake was simply way too far away from the next town and it seemed like nobody bothered driving all the way down here. All the better for the Winchesters who enjoyed having the closest thing to a vacation they had in a long time. They had both taken off their shirts, and after finishing his sandwich, Dean had every intention to get his ass into the water. It felt like ages to him since the last time he went swimming and Sam seemed to like the idea too. It would certainly be refreshing after spending most of the day in a freakishly hot car.

Their fun was cut short however, and no more than 20 minutes after getting into the cool water, Sam had to get out again to answer his cell. Dean watched his brother from where he was standing in the shallower parts of the lake, where the water was only reaching to his chest. He didn't like the worried expression on Sam's face. The way he frowned usually meant yet another case. Sure, their life had been pretty peaceful after Purgatory. There was no Apocalypse, no war in Heaven, just the good old salt'n'burn- jobs they were used to, still he could really do with a little more free time. Sam gestured him to get out of the water then, and Dean grudgingly obliged. They didn't have any towels but he figured he'd dry in the sun in no time.

"What is it, Sammy? New case?"

"Phil Hartigan called. There's a serious zombie problem down in New Orleans. Apparently a bunch of kids disappeared one day and returned some time later to eat their parents. Police is investigating but they're pretty much helpless and most of the children got away. Those who didn't died a few days later. Phil asked us to meet up with him in Arcadia. He actually wants to work this case with us."

"Is he sure about that? I thought he had retired?"

"Yeah, seems like this is kinda personal to him. Anyway, we're going south again I guess. I told him we'd be with him by 9pm so we better get going."

As much as Dean didn't want to work another case at the moment, he really couldn't refuse good old Phil anything. The guy was an old friend of Garth's, a hunter turned anthropologist and archeologist and he had helped Sam getting Dean and Cas out of Purgatory. So yeah, if Doctor Phillip Hartigan asked for their help, the Winchesters would do their best to aid him.

"Why does he want us to meet with him in Arcadia? Shouldn't he be in Baton Rouge at this time of the year?"

"He didn't say. I guess we'll just have to find out."

Driving south again was a bit easier this time. Dean felt still fresh from his time in the lake and the heat didn't bother him as much. He also looked forward to meeting Phil again, who'd quickly become a good friend. When Dean met him first, after getting out of Purgatory, he didn't like him at all. It seemed to him like his brother had just replaced Bobby with another smart, fatherly man and the older Winchester wouldn't have that. Nobody could ever replace the friends and family they'd lost. It took him weeks to realize that Hartigan was just yet another hunter who'd seen enough shit in his life to know when his help was needed and getting involved was unavoidable. He was no mentor to the brothers, no father-figure, but he was an expert in the field of his studies and he used to be one fine hunter. Also, he'd given them something like a new home base. It was a tiny house in Arcadia, Louisiana, but it had everything they needed (including a safe room in the basement) and since Phil spent most of his time in Baton Rouge, they had it all to themselves.

After a few hours in the Impala, Sam brought up the topic of Cas again, but this time in a way Dean could deal with. He suggested asking Phil if he had any idea about what kind of curse the witch used to force their feathery friend out of his vessel, and the older hunter was once again glad to have a cool little brother who used his brilliant brain just for the right things…most of the time anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **Hi guys :D I want to thank all of you for reading and reviewing. This is the first fanfic I ever published and it's good to see that you like it. I'll try to find a beta-reader to further improve this fic.

**Chapter 4.**

As they got closer to their destination, traffic got progressively worse. It seemed like the heat drove everybody mad and they actually witnessed two accidents, one of which was apparently lethal for the driver of one of the cars involved. Dean and Sam both did their best not to look too closely at the bloodstains on the road as they drove by. The older hunter's mood darkened after this. He had never been one to stay silent when other drivers annoyed him with their stupidity or recklessness, but this time the trail of curses spilling from his lips just didn't seem to come to an end any time soon. Not even blaring AC/DC at top volume seemed to take his mind off things, so after a while, Sam banned him to the passenger seat and took over the wheel. At first Dean wanted to put up a fight, but in the end he was defeated by his brother's stern bitchface.  
Damn, how he hated to be put in his place!

A little rest, however, seemed to be precisely what the older Winchester needed. It was a little cooler now, that the sun had finally set, and the low hum of the engine combined with the familiar scent of his one true home put Dean to sleep far easier than he would've expected.

His dream was far more intense than was common for him. He was standing on the edge of a cliff, arms spread wide, and facing the calm sea. A cool breeze was softly tugging on the feathers of his huge, majestic wings. He felt so powerful, so in control of himself. Nothing went by him unnoticed. He could smell the salt in the sea, the dry grass his bare toes dug into and the pleasant scent of rosemary bushes and thyme. Dean instinctively knew that if he jumped now, threw himself off this cliff, he wouldn't fall but soar up into the endless sky and his wings would carry him wherever he wanted. This, he felt certain, was freedom.

"_You're wrong, Dean. These wings, they won't bring you freedom. All the power means nothing if you can't choose what to use it for."_

Dean turned around to face Castiel, who sat on the ground, propped up against a small tree and clutching a bleeding wound on his chest. There were no traces of the Angel's wings. He looked perfectly human in fact, wearing jeans and an old plaid shirt.

"You chose what to use it for! You helped us stop the Apocalypse. You did the right thing."

Dean worried about his friend. It wasn't normal for Castiel to be like this, to be so very human. He should be invincible, strong and full of righteous wrath, like the Angel he was supposed to be. He wanted to cross the short distance between them, to crouch down next to Cas and comfort him. Only he couldn't. He just stood there, watching, listening, hyper aware of everything around him.

"And what for? Angels are not supposed to feel, to love…to make mistakes. In my pursuit of freedom and happiness I did the unspeakable. I fell in every way imaginable, I betrayed all those I love and I can never redeem myself. There is no way back for me and I fell so far that I'm even below humans. I'm more of a demon with wings and the memories of a Heaven that will never be the same for me…that will never be enough for me."

"Is that why you are here? So you can be human in my dreams?"

"_I'm here to bleed, Dean, to suffer and to receive my punishment. These are your dreams but I can take all your pain, all your memories of Hell, all your self-hate and anger and load it on myself. I can strip you of all your doubts and fears here and make you into the perfect, righteous Angel I was supposed to be."_

"This doesn't look like Hell to me."

"_You don't see this dream like I do, and for this I'm more than grateful."_

Dean jerked awake, breathing heavily and blinking a few times in confusion. He could still feel a faint tingle in his shoulder blades where only seconds ago had been his wings. It took him a few moments to realize he was still in the Impala.

"You okay, Dean? Bad dreams?"

Sammy's voice was like a safe line, dragging him back into reality, comforting him…soothing him. He had forgotten his dreams the second he opened his eyes, but something of them, a distinctive feeling of uneasiness and melancholy, still clung to him.

"Yeah, I guess so. I can't really remember."

"We're almost there and Phil called again a few minutes ago. He said there's pie waiting for us when we arrive."

"May the Flying Spaghettimonster bless this wonderful man!"

They laughed in unison then, and soon the unsettling feelings the dream had left Dean with disappeared entirely. Sam parked the Impala in the driveway in front of the small, white house. The brothers liked their new home base. It was rather narrow but it had a top floor with big windows and a beautiful front porch where Phil was already waiting for them, sitting in his rocking chair. He was a short man in his late fifties with a round, friendly face and dark eyes that stood a little bit too far apart. His receding hair was cropped short and had once been blonde before turning into a rather dirty looking grey. If it wasn't for his impressive muscles and the multiple scars on his arms, one would have never guessed that this old man was once a skilled and dangerous hunter.

"You boys left me waiting for quite some time. Good thing I already had dinner or I'd have eaten your pie."

Despite having lived in Louisiana for such a long time, Phillip Hartigan still didn't have the proper accent. He had told them once that he'd only come here for his studies and because he didn't want to stay in Tel Aviv where his wife had died. Dean and Sam both found it kind of odd how most male hunters seemed to have lost their wives, but in Phil's case, it wasn't a demon or a monster that made him a widower, but depression and suicide.

"Traffic was Hell, I tell you. We've been on the road far longer than expected. Oh and don't threaten to eat the whole pie when Dean's around. That's seriously no joking matter."

They all laughed then (though Dean mentioned once again that pie really was serious business for him) and went inside where three plates of peach pie already waited for them. They were eating in the living room since the kitchen was too small for all three of them, and Phil got each of the brothers a cold bottle of Czech Budweiser (no crappy American beer in my house, boys!) and a sprite for himself. Sam was telling their friend about their last hunt and what the witch's cursed blood did to Castiel, Dean, on the other side, mostly stayed out of the conversation. His younger brother had known Phil far longer than he had. They had worked together getting Dean and the Angel out of Purgatory, which took almost a year, and the thus resulting closeness between them still felt somewhat strange to the older Winchester. Unfortunately it turned out that Phil knew just as little about this kind of curse as they did, and so the topic of their conversation advanced to more urgent matters.

"You see, I actually didn't want to bother the two of you with this case. I know you need a little rest every now and then and the past few months weren't exactly easy, but this is kind of personal."

Phil let out a heavy, drawn-out sigh, eyes narrowing a little as he searched the gazes of the brothers, so they would see just how important this particular matter was to him.

"My daughter is down in New Orleans, visiting a friend, but I haven't heard from her in three days. She's a big girl and it's not uncommon for her to just wander off on her own without telling anybody, but in the light of the recent events down there I really worry about her. I taught her how to defend herself but she's not a hunter. I actually came here to Arcadia to ask another one of my friends who lives nearby to help me, but he doesn't answer my calls and I'm starting to think that something's really wrong here."

The brothers shared a quick look. It was hard to miss the desperation in Phil's voice and his story really was rather unsettling. Whatever it was, that was going on in New Orleans, it certainly wasn't normal. Once again, it was Sam who reached out to the older man, gently patting his shoulder, and assuring him of their help.

"Don't you worry, Phil, we'll drive south first thing in the morning. We'll find your daughter and then we'll deal with that little zombie problem. After everything you did for us, this is the least we can do."

Sometimes Dean envied his brother for being so good in the feelings department. His brother could just look at this old man and take away all his worries, while all he could do was eat his pie in silence and feeling perfectly useless.

"Thank you, boys, you two are my last hope. I've become quite rusty, I'm no longer the hunter I once was and doing this alone would probably kill me. I was thinking…uh…maybe you could call this Angel-friend of yours? Maybe he can just zap us down there to save some time."

"No Phil, I'm sorry but we can't do that. You see, Castiel was pretty weak after that curse hit him. I doubt that he could help us."

Okay so that was a lie and the look Sam gave Dean wasn't exactly nice, but the older Winchester didn't see much of a choice in this whole affair. The last thing he wanted right now was Cas hanging out with them, not after everything that had happened. He still couldn't come to terms with his feelings and he knew the Angel would expect him to finally have that promised talk…for which he really wasn't ready.

"You shouldn't be lying to your friend, Dean."

They hadn't heard the familiar flutter of wings this time, since Cas had appeared in the kitchen instead of the living room, but there he was now, stern face, impossibly blue eyes staring at Dean like he wanted to devour the hunter with his gaze and hands buried in the pockets of his trench coat.

There was something more though. The air around Castiel seemed to waver and shimmer with heat and energy, and as Dean squinted his eyes, he was sure he could make out the faint shadows of huge wings.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: **Tried myself on a Sam-POV for this chapter. I hope you guys don't mind there being a lot about Phil but I just think the boys need a little extra help. As always, please r&r. I love you, guys. :)

**Chapter 5. **

Sam had instinctively known that things would be different, when he and Phil dragged Castiel and Dean out of Purgatory. Both Angel and hunter were changed men after their shared experiences in a place where everything was out to get you and you were at the very bottom of the food-chain, but it took Sam a while to realize just how his brother and their friend had changed. The first things he had noticed in the time he cared for Dean, while he recovered from his trauma and injuries, was how there was a whole new level of understanding between his brother and Castiel, who had apparently overcome his insanity. They spent a lot more time together, seemingly just enjoying each other's company, and the Angel was always there to help them. The second thing Sam noticed was the darkness behind their eyes, both his brother and their winged friend tried to hide. The younger Winchester didn't know what happened in Purgatory, not even how much time had passed in there, but whatever it was, it left scars in the souls of the two men most important to him. Dean refused to talk about it (which was no big surprise), but it was hard for Sam to ignore the stifled cries he sometimes heard at night from his brother's room, or this one phrase he heard him mutter in his sleep so often: "_I'm not enjoying this. I don't want this, I swear._"

Now, as Sam looked from his brother to Castiel, he saw that familiar darkness in their eyes again. He couldn't quite put a finger on it, couldn't understand what it meant, but it was definitely unsettling.

"Cas I…"

"You need to learn not to let personal feelings come between you and your duty, Dean. I may not be as strong as I was, but I'm perfectly capable of helping you and Dr. Hartigan."

Sam really wanted to stay out of this conversation. Both his brother and the Angel did their staring-thing again, where they looked deeply into each other's eyes as if they either wanted to kill the other or jump his bones. Sam suspected it was a mixture of both. He had always known Dean had feelings for Cas that went a bit further than friendship, no matter how much he denied it. Phil had noticed it too, and the anthropologist gave him a look now that clearly said "Let's get the Hell out of here and let them sort out their shit amongst themselves."

"Look boys, I'm glad you want to help and everything, so I just let the two of you decide what we're going to do and in the meantime me and Sam go and prepare everything we need for tomorrow, okay?"

With these words, Phil got to his feet and left for the basement, dragging Sam with him. Dean just nodded in reply, but kept his gaze firmly locked with Castiel's and the Angel didn't even seem to notice his friends' leaving.

The younger Winchester allowed himself a relieved sigh as soon as he was in the basement with his friend. Dragging his hand through his hair, he finally let his tense shoulders slouch a bit again. He wondered yet again what happened between his brother and Castiel the other day, but knowing Dean, he'd probably never find out.

"So Dean and his Angel-boy still didn't sort out their problems? A very mature brother you got there, Sam."

"Tell me about it, Phil. You know, yesterday after the trouble with that witch, I thought something changed between them. They were smiling at each other like the cutest lovebirds, it was sickeningly sweat, I tell ya, but something happened while I was in the shower and now they're back to bitching at each other and communication trouble. Dean won't tell me what happened and to be honest, I'm starting to lose my patience with them."

Phil nodded sympathetically while he prepared the huge suitcase he used for transporting his rather impressive weapon-array. There was enough ammo to eradicate a small town and besides firearms, he also packed three machetes and a couple of books he had picked in advance to help them find out what kind of threat they were about to face in New Orleans.

"I understand, Sam, this must be really hard for you, seeing your brother and your friend like this and standing somewhere in the middle while they have their ridiculous fights. How come you can deal with your feelings so much better than he?"

"I think it's because Dean always wanted to be like dad. And dad…he was so broken. Emotionally. Dean gave all he had to me and I think he doesn't know how to love someone who isn't family. Who isn't me. I'm quite sure he thinks that by loving someone else, he takes away something that's supposed to only belong to me. And that's why…that's…"

Sam's voice broke then. He hadn't even noticed how his whole body started to shudder and how labored his breathing had become. It hurt talking about this shit. It hurt talking about their family, their non-existent childhood and how damaged they were, most of all though, it hurt how powerless he felt. Phil pulled him in a tight embrace then, and even though the anthropologist was more than a head shorter than him, he felt tiny in his arms, like a child.

"It's okay Sam. It's not your fault, or your brother's or Castiel's. Heck, it's not even your dad's fault. Life's a bitch and fucking it will only give you STDs but you're not alone in this. When I met you, you were like a lost child, looking for your brother, and you reminded me of my own children so I decided to help you…but Sam, it took me way too long to realize just how strong you are. You're the best hunter I've ever met and your capacity to love is amazing. There's a reason your brother sacrifices so much for you – and this reason is you being a good guy. Like, really good. In the time we spent together, you grew so much. You were always a strong guy, because if not, you wouldn't have survived, but still you managed to grow even more. And this, my friend, is why you can do this. You can help your brother and Cas with their shit, and I will be there for you, if you want me to."

"Phil…thanks, man. I…appreciate that."

"I know I'm not your dad or Bobby…and you're not Josh but you guys mean a lot to me."

"Josh…your son? You never told me about him before."

"He died in 2009 in the Gaza War. He was a soldier, not a hunter, but his fate wasn't any kinder. I wish…every day I wish he'd come with me and Eva, but he chose to stay in Israel and now he's dead. Talking about him still hurts. I can hardly remember my wife's face but Josh…I see his face every time I close my eyes. You don't look like him at all, Sam, but you remind me of him and since I couldn't be there for him, couldn't save him, I want to at least help you."

"You know, Phil, I think we'll work all of this out. We'll find your daughter, kick a bunch of zombie-asses and then lock Dean and Cas in a room until they sort out their issues."

Both men laughed and it felt like some of the tension was gone now. Phil patted Sam on the shoulder and both of them continued packing for the following day. The anthropologist's basement never ceased to amaze Sam. He had more books down here than most libraries, and all of them included useful information for hunters. Some of them he'd even written himself and Sam really wanted to get his hands on them. This, however, would have to wait until this case was over.

"That your daughter?"

While packing, Sam had stumbled over some loose photos, strewn across the dusty concrete floor. Most of them showed Phil on field studies in foreign countries, but one of them was of a young woman, probably in her mid to late twenties, with blonde hair, glasses and the same crooked smirk he'd seen on Phil so many times.

"Yeah, that's Eva. She's all I have left. She looks more like her mom than me, but her personality…well, let's just say she really is my little girl. She went to New Orleans to visit a friend she's doing field studies with. She's an anthropologist like me, my baby girl, always making her daddy so proud."

"We'll find her. Don't you worry, Phil. If we're lucky, we can even travel with Angel-Airways."

"Come to think of it, I can't hear the lovebirds anymore. Think they sorted it out already?"

"I hope so! It's getting late, we're practically finished here and I really need to sleep. Tomorrow's going to be an eventful day, no matter if we've to drive the distance or get zapped down there."

"You go upstairs then and see how things are going. I'll finish packing alone. Just go get your rest, boy."

Nodding, Sam stacked the photos, placed them on a table and headed upstairs. His brother and the Angel were no longer in the living room, so he just shrugged and retreated to his room. They had both their own rooms here, and as much as he loved Dean, it was nice to not always have to share his space with him. The bed he had now was also fucking perfect. Like a lot of the other furniture, it had belonged to Phil's son, who must've been a pretty tall dude. Unlike Dean's room, which had belonged to Eva, this one was barely used and while dusty, most of the stuff seemed to be good as new. Apparently Josh had only stayed here during vacations and never for long. Sam loved this room, loved how coming back here actually felt a bit like coming home. Ever since they'd lost Bobby, every place they stayed felt foreign, like they didn't belong – but Arcadia and this house here seemed to welcome the Winchesters, and he was grateful for that.

After undressing to his boxer briefs, Sam let himself fall backwards onto the bed. It was hot in here, even though the window was open, so he was laying spread eagle on the covers, hoping to cool down a bit, and trying his best to ignore the low voices he could hear from the room next to his. He couldn't understand what they were talking about, but apparently Dean and Cas had retreated to Dean's room to continue their little dispute.

Sam knew he probably should get up again to shower and brush his teeth, but his limbs felt heavy already and his body seemed to be very much against getting out of this very comfy bed. Before he could chide himself for his own laziness, he had already fallen asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: **_Attention guys! This chapter contains A LOT of triggering material. This is not a happy fic. In this chapter, you'll find violence, abuse and mentions of torture. Read at your own risk. _

**Chapter 6.**

"See, you scared them off, Cas."

"I'm not aware of any shortcomings on my part, Dean. It was you who lied to Dr. Hartigan. I merely came to set the facts straight."

Rolling his eyes, Dean started pacing up and down in the room to somehow let off a little steam. He hated where this was going. He hated how Castiel always managed to drag his emotions so close to the surface, making them almost spill over the brink. He knew that if he wasn't careful, this really wouldn't end well.

"Well I supposed you didn't want to help anyway since you just left yesterday. You know, just storming off really is the best thing you can do for building a friendship on a foundation of trust."

The sarcasm in Dean's voice was meant to hurt and apparently he was successful, judging by how Castiel's expression changed from mildly annoyed to anguish.

"You know Dean, if you want to hurt me you could just do what you did in Purgatory."

That was a low blow. Dean went instantly pale as a ghost, and with slightly parted lips, he stared at the angel as if he'd just been struck. Castiel, on the other hand, kept his eyes focused on his own feet. His fists were clenched, his whole posture tense and he seemed to regret his own words the very moment they left his lips. There was pain-filled silence between them. Dean could hear himself gulp down the feelings that threatened to spill out of him and then he just broke apart. His hands were shaking, his eyes burned and even though he just wanted to hide, to get away from the memories, he did the exact opposite. Within a split second he crossed the distance between himself and Castiel, and punched him right in the face.

This shouldn't have hurt Cas. There shouldn't have been the sound of the Angel's nose breaking or the scent of blood filling the air. But there was. The blow had knocked Castiel to the ground, not because of Dean's strength, but because the Angel let it happen. Dean should've stopped then, should've helped his friend to his feet and apologize, but he grabbed him by the collar, pulled him up a little and punched him again, this time hitting the jaw.

"What the fuck, man?"

"Thank you, Dean."

He hit him one more time, breaking the thing skin over the Angel's chapped lips. Dean had an awful sense of déjà vu. This was not the first time he had stood over Castiel, looking down at the Angel whose blood was gushing from his broken nose. It was not the first time he had punched him either, and certainly not the first time Cas had thanked him for doing so. It all happened before. In Purgatory. And he really didn't want to be reminded of that.

The Angel was smiling a very unsettling smile. Dean understood his intentions then. His friend wanted to be hurt.

"Don't do this to me! Don't fucking do this to me, Cas."

"You are angry, Dean. You want to hurt me and I let you. The injuries won't have any lasting consequences. I will heal when I chose to."

"That's not what this is about."

"I'm always happy to bleed for you. I deserve to bleed for you, Dean."

Dean let himself fall down on his knees next to Castiel and using the sleeve of his shirt, he gingerly wiped the blood off of his friend's face. He was sorry. He really didn't want any of this, least of all hurt someone he loved, but he just couldn't help it, couldn't even find the right words to express what he didn't want to feel. He was lost. Dean just wanted to stop being himself, being so broken and violent and full of self-loathing. Sam and Cas both deserved someone better than him. They deserved happiness, not blood and suffering. Of course he messed up everything again. He always did. It had started in Hell that he enjoyed hurting others, and after what happened in Purgatory, it only got worse. He felt awful for this, like a wretched creature not deserving to be alive.

He could remember it so clearly. They'd been running from the dead Angels for months, never staying anywhere for longer than absolutely necessary. In the end, however, they tapped right into one of their traps and the next thing after that Dean remembered was waking up on a rack. It hadn't taken him long to realize that these feathery bastards didn't want them dead, they wanted to make them suffer. He could deal with the torture however. There was nothing they could do to him that hadn't been done to him in Hell before. He laughed in their faces. That was, until they made him do the same things to Castiel. They had forced him to hurt the only friend he had in this dark shithole, and it broke him. They had made him cut into Cas' very essence, into his grace, and Dean would never be able to forget the way his friend had looked at him. The Angel's eyes had fixed on his own, and with a forced smile on his broken lips, he had whispered "_Thank you, Dean_."

Worst of all was that a part of the hunter still enjoyed hurting Cas. Not because of what he'd done to Sammy or because he'd betrayed them, but for the sole reason of relishing in the pain of others.

And Cas, he'd pretended to like being hurt in order to keep Dean sane, knowing that having to torture his friend and liking it would very likely drive him mad…which was exactly what the dead Angels wanted to happen.

"Cas, I want you to use me again. As a vessel, I mean."

The hunter wanted to tell Castiel everything. He wanted to shout out how much he meant to him and how sorry he was for not being enough, for not even being able to express his feelings properly and for causing him pain at every possible occasion. He wanted to hug him, to be close to him and to feel this weird intimacy again he had experienced while they shared his body. He wanted Cas to understand, to know that he didn't want to hurt him but just couldn't help it. Only he couldn't. He was so very fucked up, he actually didn't know any other way than letting the angel use his body as a meatsuit again.

"This is not a good idea, Dean."

"Shut the fuck up and just do it! I know you want it too. Hell, we're so screwed, you and I. We can't talk about shit without going at each other's throats but this way…this way we can make it work. Just…please."

And to his great surprise, Cas did it. He didn't even try to talk back, his body just went limb and Dean could barely catch it before the soulless shell hit the ground. This was when he could feel the Angel's power surrounding him again, seeping into him. It was a lot faster this time, almost as if Castiel was rushing to be inside of him (that sounded so wrong in Dean's thoughts). Within seconds, the hunter could feel his friend's mind brushing his own, gently pushing it aside as he lost control over his own body. He could feel majestic wings unfurling on his back again, the tips of his feathers brushing over the walls and the familiar power fueled by his (his?) Angel's grace. It was different than last time, though. Castiel's memories and feelings, all the guilt and regret, came crashing down on him once more, but this time was prepared and he looked instinctively for the safe line, those bright moments in their lives they shared. He found them and he held on to them.

And then there was peace.

Everything else, everything that surrounded them was strangely muted, but this made Castiel's feelings only shine the brighter in comparison. All seemed so easy now. They loved each other, there was no denying that, but they were broken and they needed to work on that if they wanted to make their thing work. Dean could see the extent of how utterly destroyed Cas' soul (or grace?) was. How he still craved punishment in hopes of somehow redeeming himself, and he was aware that his own self-loathing was evident to his friend too. They could understand each other like this, and it felt so good. He saw how Castiel actually did want to be hurt by Dean. It wasn't some weird S/M thing, no, it was all about him hoping to somehow make it up to him this way. Of course, this didn't make him feel any less of a monster for causing his friend this much pain, but knowing how Cas dealt with it somehow made it easier. Dean really wished they could just stay like this. Forever. He would be able to protect Sammy even better with all this Angel mojo inside of him, and there would never be any misunderstandings with Castiel again, never any denied feelings.

Too bad it wasn't possible.

He'd make the best of what they had, though. He'd talk.

"_I'm sorry, Cas, so sorry. I never wanted to hurt you…I just can't help it. This is like some weird vicious circle of domestic violence. I hate myself for enjoying it…for enjoying hurting you."_

"_It's okay, Dean. It's okay that you want to hurt me. I want you to. Pain makes me feel human. Pain feels right. I deserve this. "_

"_Don't you realize how fucked up this is, Cas? This is madness. This is…"_

"_Sparta?"_

"_I love you for this movie reference, but this is no time for joking."_

"_You said it!"_

"_What?"_

"_That you love me."_

"_And I mean it."_

The moment was over. Dean felt a surge of loss wash through him as Castiel's grace left his body again and returned into his own. It was even worse than the pain that followed. He cried out in agony, clutching his face, and he felt hot blood dripping from gashes on his skin all over his fingers. The pain, sudden as it was, knocked out the breath of his lungs and looking down at his body, he found his clothes to be drenched in his own blood.

Castiel was reacting fast then. He carefully placed his index- and middle finger on Dean's forehead, closing the wounds. He didn't take away the pain though.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Dean."

"What for?"

"I should never have agreed to this! I…I can't both heal you properly and zap all of us to New Orleans tomorrow."

"It's okay, Cas. I can deal with a little pain. I guess we're equal now. I broke your nose and you tore holes into my skin. Sounds fair to me."

Dean couldn't have expected what happened next. Ever so gently, Castiel picked him up into his arms, holding him to his chest like some vulnerable, fragile bird, and carried him upstairs into his room. It was not like the hunter didn't try to protest, but all his arguments seemed to just go unnoticed. This Angel of his really was one goddamn stubborn son of a bitch. Besides, Dean had to admit he kind of liked being cared for. Usually it was the other way round.

Cas put him down on the bed and left to fetch pain medication. The wounds didn't need caring for, but the flesh underneath the skin was still hurt and the Angel didn't want his friend to suffer. Dean, in the meantime, took off his blood-stained shirt and carelessly threw it into an empty laundry basket. The room he was in, his room, previously belonged to Phil's daughter Eva, but nothing in here screamed girl. In fact, there was very little he changed upon kind of moving in here. He was totally okay with a huge poster of Rob Zombie hanging on the wall, and he didn't mind the countless pictures of faraway places either. The only thing he had gotten rid of was the scented candles.

Castiel came back carrying a glass of water and two pills, and handing them over to Dean, he sat down on the bed next to him. The Angel's face was still a mess. He obviously didn't want to use any of his waning strength to heal himself, so his nose was still broken and bleeding and his broken lip swollen. Dean hesitantly brushed his thumb over the blossoming purplish bruise on his friend's jaw.

"I'm so sorry…"

"Take your medicine, Dean."

And Dean did. He swallowed the pills down with a gulp of water and hoped they'd start working soon, but immediately after he returned his attention to his Angel.

"Why didn't you wipe the blood away?"

"Because I know you too well."

Damn that feathery fucker for being right! Dean's fingers were on Cas' face again, tracing the outlines of his swollen, broken lower lip and he watched how his fingers were coated in the Angel's blood, how it seeped into the small creases of his skin. It was utterly fascinating and strangely beautiful. He hadn't always been like this. Sure, Hell had changed him in many unfortunate ways, but he had only started liking the taste and heavy, metallic scent of blood after being turned into a vampire. Even though he had been human for quite some time now, he could still remember this primal need to feed, to taste this precious fluid of life. Plus, and he only dared admitting this in the privacy of his own mind, licking the blood off of Castiel's lips would be goddamn hot. There was nothing right now he'd rather do, but he wasn't ready yet. He wasn't ready to go this far.

"Sammy and Phil will ask about your injuries…"

"I will make sure they won't notice them."

"And you'll have enough mojo left for Angel Airways?"

"Of course, Dean. Unlike other people, I'm well aware of my own limits."

"Oh shut your trap, angelface."

"Make me."

Was that a challenge, and invitation or both? Dean wasn't quite sure, but whatever it was, he was in for it.

**AN:** _I'm sorry for the cliffhanger…I guess you guys know where this is going but I kind of wanted it to be in a separate chapter. _


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: **Finally porn! There's a lot of blood!kink in this chapter, be warned. This is pretty much the first time I wrote smut so be gentle with your criticism.

**Chapter 7.**

Their mouths clashed together, so hard it almost hurt. There were teeth scratching over swollen lips, noses bumping against each other, the metallic taste of blood mingling with the tastes of their skins and lips and tongues. They were like a bomb. Their kiss destroyed everything they were before now, leaving them vulnerable, broken open, bare for each other. It hurt but the pain was relief and there was no stopping. The avalanche was in motion now and there was no other possible outcome than the destruction, the utter annihilation of their former selves. Each bite, each scratch, each desperate kiss was a little death and they suffered through it together, wrapped tightly in each other's arms, feeling their chests rise and fall as they pressed their bodies together, needing the other's closeness like a drowning man a safe line.

For a split second Dean wondered where Castiel learned to kiss like this, but then he realized that his Angel actually couldn't kiss at all. He was awkward, forceful, desperate – but this was exactly what the hunter wanted right now. This was new for both of them and they were equals in their confusion.

The hunter dug his fingers into the Angel's short, messy hair, his nails scraping the scalp. He usually wasn't this rough, quite the opposite actually, but something about his friend here just drove him wild. They kissed like there was no tomorrow, panting into each other's mouths as their tongues did more fighting than actual caressing. It wasn't about dominance, it was about aggression, desperation, need and this fear of the thing they shared but had trouble talking about. Actions were easier. They were both men born to fight so even in bed they did what they were best at.

Dean shifted his attention from Cas' swollen, broken lips to his jaw, placing wet kisses on the purplish bruise he had caused the Angel. A part of him was surprised how little (or rather not at all) he was bothered by his friend's stubble. He had expected to be somehow turned off but instead he had to admit to himself that he was already half hard just from a little fooling around. Dean still considered himself heterosexual but apparently he was Cas-sexual now too because his body really desperately craved the Angel's touch.

"Cas…you should really touch me…like…everywhere."

His voice sounded strange in his own ears – rough, husky, almost broken. Castiel complied immediately, his long fingers brushed over Dean's shirt, traveling lower at a pace that was somewhere between way too fast and still too hesitant. A long, drawn-out groan escaped the hunter's chapped lips as he felt Cas' hand brush over his crotch. It was a soft touch, nothing more, but it's been a while for the hunter and he only now realized just how much he really wanted the Angel in a physical way.

"Is it good like this?"

Dean doesn't understand how his friend still needs to ask. What kind of stupid question was that anyway? Didn't he realize how much the hunter's pants already tented, how achingly hard he already was? Looking at Cas, Dean saw confusion plainly visible on the blood-smeared face. It was kind of cute, really.

"No, no let me show you."

In a matter of seconds, Dean was on top of Castiel, bodies pressed tightly against each other, and to his great satisfaction, he found the Angel's erection pressing against his own through their pants. Damn right, Dean Winchester seduced Warriors of God like the pro he was. His mouth was on his friend's clavicle, sucking in the skin, occasionally biting. He left bruises but he was pretty sure that this was exactly what Cas wanted and knowing this went straight to his cock.

This was still only foreplay, and Hell they weren't even naked, but Dean found himself breathing rather heavily already while Cas didn't even gasp when the hunter bit and sucked on his shoulder and lit his hips roll against the Angel's. It was kind of unfair but the hunter guessed that this just was what you get when you wanted a virgin Angel in your bed. He didn't really mind all that much…sooner or later, he would make Cas scream his name.

Feeling Castiel's hands gripping the hunter's buttocks tightly should have been a warning, but Dean still didn't quite see it coming when his friend suddenly decided to take matters into his own hands. Cas rolled them over so he was on top now, straddling Dean beneath him. His fingers wandered to his lover's belly, brushing up his shirt and finally unbuttoning his pants.

Both of them lost their patience undressing each other. If he had been in possession of all of his strength, Castiel would've just let their clothes disappear, but now he was forced to resort to rather desperate measures. It takes practically nothing of his mojo to make the angel blade appear in his hand, it's almost as if it was always part of him and he just chose to keep it hidden away like his wings. The blade tears through Dean's clothes with a precision that is both terrifying and strangely fascinating and moments later there's nothing but bare skin and shredded remains of what had once been their pants between them. If it had been anybody else doing this, Dean would've complained about just losing his damn clothes because someone just couldn't wait for him to undress, but with Cas he just found it insanely hot. Seeing the Angel with his blade, like the fierce warrior he was, went straight to the hunter's cock, which was currently aching for a little attention.

As if reading his mind, Castiel wrapped his hand around Dean's cock, letting him feel a little friction as he slowly stroked him. It was more teasing than anything else and the hunter couldn't help it and let out a soft, needy whine.

"You're mine now, Dean. I won't…I can't let anybody else have you."

"I'm yours…I'm all yours just give me a little more now. Damnit I don't want to beg so if you keep teasing me like that, I'll have to take matters into my own hands."

Castiel grinned, actually grinned, and it made him look almost predatory, like a bird of prey spying on a helpless rodent. Dean found this sexier than he probably should. He liked Cas like this, all possessive and in control. It was so very different from what they had experienced in Purgatory and he was more than willing to let his friend hold the metaphorical reins, if that was what he wanted.

Dean watched as Cas aligned both of their cocks, rubbing them at each other before starting to jerk them simultaneously, and he just had to lick his suddenly dry lips at that sight. The Angel kissed him again then, coaxing soft, stifled moans from the hunter's mouth as he practically shoved his tongue down the other man's throat. Only when Dean felt a sharp pang of pain in his chest did he realize that the kiss was meant as a distraction. Pulling away he looked down at himself, examining the bleeding cut forming what appeared to be the number 13 right where his sternum was. The hunter was amazed by how fast his lover must have moved. Maybe he should've been angry, but he liked being marked by his Angel once more and he certainly didn't mind a little pain.

"It's the letter C in Enochian."

"I would let you carve your whole name in my chest if that's what you want, Cas."

"We'll save the remaining letters for next time."

"You're one kinky bastard."

"I'm learning from the best."

Both of them chuckle, pressing their foreheads against each other and enjoying their closeness, their intimacy. Sure, it was fucked up, messy and rather weird, but they weren't exactly normal by most standards and nobody was going to judge them for their screwed up kinks in the privacy of this bedroom. Dean watched as Castiel gently dipped his fingers into the bleeding wound on his lover's chest, coating them in blood. It hurts, but the hunter is welcoming the pain, breathing through it, reveling in it. The Angel returns his hand to their cocks, giving them the attention they so desperately needed and from then on things progressed rather swiftly. Pre-come mixed with the blood on Cas' hands, who was using both of it as a lubricant, even though it doesn't work as well as real lube would. Still, the sensation has them both moaning and panting in seconds and Dean was thinking that maybe it would be him screaming this time and not his feathery friend.

Cas' lips were on the hunter's throat, teeth scraping over the sensitive skin, and all Dean could really do was close his eyes and trying not to forget to breath. He felt the Angel's free hand in his neck, caressing it gently which was a stark contrast to his otherwise rather rough treatment. His own arms were wrapped around Castiel's shoulders. He was clinging to his lover like his life depended on it and it gave him some sort of support as his shuddering body slowly threatened to come apart under the Angel's slick and busy fingers.

"Dean…"

"You're…you're doing perfectly, Cas. You're…oh damn."

Dean hardly realized how he repeated his lover's name over and over again, like a mantra or a prayer. One of his hands is tangled in Castiel's hair, the other desperately scratching over his back. He really wanted to come now, was so ready for it, but it seemed like Cas didn't want him to. That bastard!

"Please…pleasepleaseplease…Cas…please"

Dean Winchester never wanted to be one to beg, he should've just taken matters into his own hands, but for some reason he couldn't quite comprehend, he liked being like this, practically being putty in Castiel's capable hands. He liked giving himself to the Angel, completely, and he was rewarded. Kissing him one more time, as hungry and forceful as ever, Cas jerked them harder, adding a little twist of his hand and then, finally, Dean comes, way harder than expected. The sensation knocked out the air of his lungs and he couldn't even moan properly as he came apart under his lover. His thighs were shaking rather violently, proving just how long it had been since the last time anyone made him feel like this. He smiles though, like a fool drunk on happiness, and damn him if that wasn't the best orgasm he had in all of his life.

"Allow me to finish that for you, Cas."

The Angel looked rather surprised as Dean pushed him onto his back and nestled down between his legs. The hunter going down on him must've been the last thing he expected from his formerly strictly heterosexual lover, but Dean always claimed to be a man full of surprises and he stayed true to his words. It wasn't like he ever did this before, but he figured Cas would be pretty close by now anyway so it probably wouldn't take much work on his part to drive him over the edge.

Wrapping his lips around Cas' cock was almost like the beginning of an experiment. There were so many new sensations his dizzy mind had to process. The combined taste of skin, blood and come was weird, but while not exactly pleasant, Dean found he didn't really mind it. He let his tongue explore for a bit before taking the head into his mouth. He would need to do this slowly if he didn't want to gag. Castiel, however, wouldn't have that. It shouldn't have come as a surprise for the hunter, after everything they just did together, but he still let out a stifled gasp as Cas grabbed his hair and proceeded to almost desperately fuck his mouth. As much as Dean tried to breathe through his nose, the gagging reflex still made his eyes water a bit. He was just glad his Angel was too engrossed in his own pleasure to notice and it only took him a couple more seconds before he pulled out, coming in spurts over Dean's face.

"I'm sorry, Dean…I…"

"It's okay…just…uh…warn me next time or something."

Cas gently wiped the hunter's face clean, all the while avoiding looking him into the eyes. Both of their breathing was still labored but there were those smug, blissful post-coital smirks on their faces that made any more words unnecessary. Dean rolled over on the bed, spreading arms and legs to pass off some of the heat. His skin was still flushed and sweaty and he desperately needed a shower but he was just way too happy just laying here to move a single bone.

"That…was amazing."

"I couldn't agree more, Dean."

"Will you stay with me, Cas? For the night?"

Castiel replied with a kiss, a gentle one, this time. It was almost romantic, even more so since they were both smiling as they softly nibbled on each other's lips. This night, Dean would sleep like a child, knowing that he truly had left his old self behind to enter a new part of his life. Sure, he'd have to overthink a huge chunk of his identity as a heterosexual man who did not do romance, but he was fairly positive that he could do this. He had a sexy Angel to help him after all.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8. **

_The dungeon was dark, gloomy but the torches cast enough of their orange light on the rack to illuminate the man strapped to it. Dean looked down at his helpless friend, met his gaze, felt like drowning in those blue eyes, and put the knife once more to the Angel's skin. He could hear the voices in his head, telling him what to do. They were threatening him, always lurking in the back of his mind and making sure he'd do exactly what they wanted. They enjoyed breaking him, reveled in the sight of a broken man destroying the only thing in his life had had left. _

"_Dean, you need to cut deeper."_

_Castiel's voice startled him. It was welcome though, it distracted him from the dead Angels telling him if he stopped torturing his friend, they'd kill both of them. For the longest time, Dean had wanted to stop, to give up and die, but Cas always always urged him to go on. He wouldn't let him down._

_The hunter's knife sliced into Castiel's flesh like butter. Blood bubbled and gushed out of the wound as he twisted the blade and he knew his friend fought hard to hold back a bone-shattering scream. It wasn't all that bad though, at least not compared to some of the other things Dean had done to the Angel over the course of their stay in Purgatory. There was only red, no white light, and this was a good sign. They both had come to appreciate the sight of blood as it meant the injury was only superficial (at least for Angel-standards), it was the light they feared for every time Dean cut deep enough to reach Castiel's Grace, the Angel would lose more and more of his already dwindling power._

"_Thank you, Dean."_

When Dean woke up, he was alone in his bed and his whole body hurt. Groaning, he used the flimsy covers to wipe off the sweat of his brow. Despite the warmth, he was shuddering and the dream (or rather the memories) left him with a sense of uneasiness.

"Cas?"

"I'm here."

Stepping out of the shadows, the Angel sat down on the bed. He seemed to want to put his arm around Dean but changed his mind in the last moment. There was an awkward silence between them. The hunter didn't have to explain his nightmares, not after the countless times he had woken up screaming, but showing signs of weakness made him feel too exposed and more than a little uncomfortable and they both knew talking wouldn't really help in this situation.

"I don't want to hurt you again."

"You cannot hurt me, Dean.

"What about this?"

Dean gently touched the bruise on Cas' jaw. It was a loving gesture, a display of affection he'd never dare making in the light of the day. The night was like a cover around them, making it possible for them to be who they really are.

"I think of it as you marking me as yours…Winchester-style."

"You're one weird-ass Angel, Cas."

When the hunter leaned back again, he pulled Castiel with him. That bastard must've put on fresh clothes while Dean was sleeping, but he could forgive him once he noticed, with more than a little smug satisfaction, that it was one of his own shirts and boxer briefs the Angel was wearing.

"Do you want me to stay in bed with you while you sleep?"

"You should be renamed in Captain Obvious, sexy BAMF of the Lord."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"Damn right."

Dean was not cuddling with Cas. No, he certainly wasn't. He just pushed up his friend's shirt a little bit and pillowed his head on the Angel's belly. Feeling soft skin against his cheek was comforting, calming even. This time, he was sure, sleep would be a lot more peaceful and undisturbed my memories he didn't want to have. Dean even let his guard down enough to allow himself a soft moan of pleasure when he felt Castiel's fingers gently massaging his neck. Falling asleep was easy like this.

The next day found all four of them in New Orleans. The weather was great but it seemed like Castiel was the only one who could really appreciate it. His friends appeared to suffer in this torrid heat, even Phil who claimed to spend a lot of time at the Gulf Coast. The Angel, however, enjoyed the blue, cloudless sky and the warm breeze. He felt a strange, unfamiliar sense of pride for wearing one of Dean's old shirts, even though the weird looks Sam gave him were rather irritating. He hadn't really had time to speak with Dean in private after last night but he was positive he'd find a chance to change this once they'd found the anthropologist's daughter and finished the case with the zombie children.

For now, they had decided to split up into pairs to speed the whole search up a bit. Sam and Dean would drive to the next police station to get reports on what happened, and Phil would take Cas to check out the place where his daughter usually stopped by. The Angel would've preferred to stay with his favorite hunter, but Dean wouldn't have him anywhere near a police officer again.

It was not like Castiel didn't like spending time with the anthropologist, he just couldn't even compare to a single one of Dean's freckles. Nobody could. Besides, the Angel was just a tiny little bit annoyed by Phil's curiosity. As an expert in Judeo-Christian mythology he usually didn't miss a single chance to question Cas about various aspects of his extremely long life, and he had this unpleasant quirk of always tackling the topics he wanted the least to talk about.

"So, in the past months I did a little research, you know, out of curiosity, and there's not a single report of an Angel named Castiel in my books. I found this quite interesting. I guess you haven't spent a lot of time on Earth, have you?"

"The number of Angels not showing up in human lore is not a small one. Some of us prefer less attention than others."

Phil seemed to contemplate this for a while, though his expression showed how displeased he really was with the answer he got. The frown on his face made him look older, sterner and more like the professor he was. Castiel hoped he would leave it at that and not ask any more questions. They were walking down a busy street. It was noisy here and even though the Angel had lived for millennia and seen a lot of this planet, he was fairly sure he'd get lost here if he was on his own.

"I believe Sam mentioned once that you're the Angel of Thursday and I do know that there are seven Archangels corresponding to the days of the week. If memory serves me right, the Angel of Thursday is Sachiel."

Castiel didn't like that tone in the anthropologist's voice, and the looks he gave him, curiosity mixed with skepticism, made his skin crawl in a very unpleasant way. He briefly marveled at this very human sensation. He had fallen so far, he could barely still call himself an Angel.

"This is true."

He didn't like lying to people he considered friends, not after what happened the last time he gave those he cared about reason to mistrust him. Still, this was a topic he would not talk about and he hoped his short answer gave this away. It was evident, however, that Phil would not just give up, but fortunately the anthropologist's attention was captivated by something else before he could continue nagging the Angel.

"Here we are. Now let's see if we can finally get a lead."

They were entering a nice, airy café in the French Quarter, called "The three strangers" and while Castiel had a look around, Phil casually strolled into the authorized-persons-only-area at the back like the place belonged to him. The anthropologist really hadn't lied when he said he knew his way around here. The Angel, however, didn't like being left alone in an unfamiliar environment. People stared at him and all he could do was stand around like an idiot and wait for his friend to come back. There really wasn't much to look at in the café. Phil had said his daughter comes here every time she's in New Orleans but Castiel had a hard time understanding the appeal of this particular establishment. Only then did he notice a couple of photos pinned on a black board next to the counter. Most of them were unremarkable but one showed a tall man with his arm around a woman, which wasn't all that extraordinary either, if it wasn't for another man in the background, far enough in the distance to be barely recognizable. Castiel knew who he was, however. Not even a photo could hide the traces of power emitted by this man who very obviously was no human.

When Phil came back he was accompanied by the manager, a tall Afro-American man with long dreadlocks and an impossibly bright smile. The Angel could hear them talk about the recent happenings here in the city but it soon became apparent that this guy could not help them with finding Phil's daughter.

"Cas, this is Billy Rowe, an old friend of mine. He owns this place and he knows about what we do."

Castiel shook the manager's hand and exchanged the conventional pleasantries people seemed to always expect of him. It was tedious but Dean had told him more than once that blending in was fundamental.

"I'm really sorry for not being able to help you, Phil. You know Eva and Loreena stop here every time they're in the city but I haven't heard a word from them since Eva's birthday. If I was you, I'd look for Loreena's husband. I know you hate the guy, Phil, but he's a hunter like you and if there's anybody who can help you, it's him."

"I called him already but he won't answer as always. I guess I'll have the boys look for him. At least he won't ignore them."

They all said their goodbyes then and Cas followed Phil outside again. It was almost noon now and the sunlight was even brighter, prompting the anthropologist to put on his sunglasses. The Angel had a lot of questions for his friend. A few years ago, he'd just have read his mind and it wouldn't have been more than a simple exercise for him, but now even flying had become almost too much for the little Angel mojo he had left. Becoming human was hard.

"Who are these people your friend talked about, Loreena and her husband? Will they really be able to help us?"

Phil didn't answer. The anthropologist's shoulders seemed to twitch a little and Castiel noticed how the other man's fists were clenched tightly. He was crying. The Angel was at a loss. He had learned to interpret the Winchester's feelings and he'd become quite good at interpreting most human's emotions, but he would've never expected Phil Hartigan to just start crying out of thin air. Cas gently patted his friend's shoulder. Should he hug him? Would that be appropriate? He really had no idea.

"Phil? Are you…are you alright?"

"Of course I'm alright, Castiel! I mean…people disappear all the time without a trace, right? Nothing to worry about. I already buried my son, I can do it again. No problem, really. And if we can't even find her body, who cares? We could just bury an empty casket. Really, no problem at all."

"Phil, I –"

He was cut off by his cell vibrating violently in his pocket. Picking up, he held the cellphone to his ear and as he listened intently, he grew pale as a ghost.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter**** 9.**

Castiel had dropped the Winchesters off directly in front of the local police station, but even though they successfully did their FBI-thing, they weren't really able to gather any crucial information. Apparently nobody knew what had happened and the police did it's best to keep the whole story away from the public. While Sam talked to the officer who had caught one of the zombie kids, Dean read the report. So far, there were six kids, all of them different ages and with no obvious connection, who disappeared one day only to return two days later to attack their parents. Four of the children got away but two were caught by a police officer and a passer-by who died from a blood infection after the child bit him. The report finished with stating that both of the kids died shortly after they were brought to the nearest hospital, the cause being starvation. Exchanging a quick glance, the brothers both thought that this case was very unlike their previous encounters with zombies. They both thanked the police officer for his cooperation before leaving again.

"So…that was pretty much pointless. We're as clueless as before." Sam said, running his fingers through his hair. For once, the younger Winchester regretted having a rather long mane. He felt sweat trickling down his neck and most of his thoughts circled around how very badly he needed a cool shower, where they should actually stay focused on the case.

"Right, but at least we now know the addresses of the victims. We should have a look around there. We both know we're a lot more thorough than the cops so we might actually find a lead there."

They decided to walk to the first address since it was pretty close and they didn't want to give up the parking slot Castiel had found for them, even though Dean would have preferred to drive his baby instead of being exposed to the cruel, merciless sun. For a while they walked in comfortable silence, the older hunter even had a relaxed smile on his face- something rarely ever seen nowadays- but of course Sammy hat to broach the wrong subject at the wrong time.

"Soooo you an Cas…are you a thing now?"

Dean hated his brother's super inquisitive voice, especially whenever he used it on him. Why couldn't he just keep his mouth shut for a while? Groaning, the older Winchester scratched his eyebrow with the blunt nail of his thumb and stared awkwardly at his own feet.

"No, no definitely not. Can we not talk about this now, Sammy? We should keep our minds on the case."

"Dude, we're just walking here. What better time is there for talking? You were pretty pissed last night and it's not the first time this led to you banging some random chick. Only now, it's Cas and this is not okay, Dean. I know the two of you have a complicated relationship but please tell me you're not just playing with him. Seriously, man, don't break his heart or he'll smite your ass!"

"Listen Sam it's nothing like that, okay? I didn't just play with him and he knew exactly what I was up to. It was just two guys blowing off a little steam, nothing more. Can't blame a guy for being a little desperate after going without sex for so long, besides there's not many people who can claim they did the nasty with an actual Angel of the Lord."

Dean tried playing it down as always and he prayed to God (father-in-law? What the heck?) for his brother to just leave it at that. Of course he knew Sam wouldn't just give up and by the time that familiar, dreaded bitch-face appeared on his brother, he knew he was doomed. Part of Dean just wanted to admit that he'd fallen for his best friend, that this goddamn Angel changed him in more ways than he could count and that, yes, he was attracted to him even though no other man ever struck his fancy. He really didn't know why he was still so emotionally constipated, why he couldn't just tell the one person closest to him what was going on. It almost was like admitting it would make it real…and real things could be destroyed, taken away from him again.

"It's okay, Dean. I know this is some weird self-defense-mechanism, because I have the same, but I can see right through you so there's no point in keeping up this farce. Oh and I should maybe inform you that lying really won't get you anywhere. You guys were so noisy last night you woke me up and even the ear plugs Phil gave me didn't do much to help me sleep. I heard most of what you said and…did. Believe me, I didn't want to, but my room is right next to yours."

"I hate you, you know that, Sammy?" Dean hissed, still staring at his own feet. Even if lying would get him nowhere, he could still deny everything or just refuse to talk about it again. It was bad enough that Cas seemed to want more than he could give, but with Sam getting on his nerves too, the older Winchester was bound to lose his mind soon.

"No, you don't. It's okay, Dean, it really is. If this is what you want, I'm happy for you. I mean, you and Cas always had this thing, it was only a matter of time for you to realize it. Besides, I think he's good for you. Hell, you guys really need each other so just cut the crap and admit your goddamn feelings to him, to me, and most of all to yourself."

"Okay…okay so I really like Feathers. He was there for me when I needed him, he saved my ass a million times in Purgatory and he's my best friend. It's just…complicated, okay? I will never forgive him what he did to you and I can't get over all the things that happened. Not exactly the best foundation for a good relationship."

"So that's what you want with him? A relationship?"

Sam raised his eyebrows and grinned like a fool. His older brother could be so adorable when he was in love.

"Just shut up, Sammy. This conversation is officially over."

They passed a small store and decided to stop there to buy two bottles of cold coke. They'd get food later but for now keeping their bodies hydrated was more important in this torrid heat. The shopkeeper was an amiable fellow with a very heavy drawl and while Sam paid for their drinks, he convinced them to buy suntan lotion too so they wouldn't have to deal with a nasty sunburn.

The brothers continued their walk down the streets of New Orleans, passing colorful houses and people staring at them from their balconies. They noticed a lot of wary faces but maybe that was just their interpretation of things, after all a life of hunting supernatural creatures made you just a tad bit paranoid.

Eventually, they stopped in front of a nice, red house with white windows and a white balcony. The front door was sealed with caution tape but this really wasn't something that could ever stop the Winchesters. They posed as FBI-agents after all, so entering a sealed house wasn't exactly a problem. Inside, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It was your stereotypical upper middle-class house with lots of family pictures, kids' toys strewn across the floor and a rather impressive TV in the living room. It was in the child's room where they found signs of what had happened here. There were dried blood splatters on the walls and on the floor and a table lamp laying broken one the ground. The brothers checked for supernatural activities, first in this particular room and then in the rest of the house, but couldn't find any.

"Okay, I guess we can rule out vengeful spirits. Do you think it's really just a zombie?" Dean asked while checking the child's room one more time to make sure he really didn't miss anything.

"Well, as far as I know there are different kinds of zombies, and New Orleans is quite famous for its voodoo and hoodoo. Maybe we should try and find some voodoo shaman or whatever they're called."

"Good idea, Sammy. I bet Phil will know where to go."

As they turned to leave, they both stopped dead in their tracks as they saw a familiar silhouette standing in the shadow of the doorframe.

"Hello boys, long time now see. Did you miss me?"

The brothers both groaned as they heard the familiar English accent and saw Crowley himself stepping out of the shadows. Of course there had to be a demon in this. After all, the spawns of Hell always managed to turn plain, ordinary salt'n'burn jobs into a matter of life and death, not only to them but usually also to the rest of the world.

"What do you want, Crowley? We don't have time for your shit now."

Dean clenched his fists. He felt his anger rising. The last time he'd seen this particular demon was the day he and Cas landed in Purgatory together and the memory was not a happy one. True, they had relied on the king of Hell's help before, but he was pretty sure they all preferred not to be working together or getting into each other's ways again.

"Well, I believe you guys owe me one for all my help in the past, wouldn't you agree? And luckily, since we're both here, we seem to be after the same thing."

Sam squinted his eyes, looking at Crowley long and hard, apparently trying to make out what the demon's plans were just by observing his body language. Unfortunately though, the hunter wasn't Sherlock Holmes and the demon's grin was as inscrutable as ever. "What do you know about the zombie kids here?"

"Let's see…First of all, it's not really about the kids. They were just easy victims. There were others too though, but nobody missed them when they disappeared. I can assure you, the bad guy is not a demon. None of my mates could do something this uncreative and dull. " The king of Hell petted something large and invisible next to him, causing Dean to feel his stomach sink. He hitched his breath, averted his eyes for a split second before facing the invisible beast again. How he hated hell hounds. There were some things you just couldn't get over, and being ripped to shreds by invisible beasts and then being dragged to Hell was one of them.

"Then why are you here? To threaten us? Just fuck off and let us do our job or I swear we'll kick your stupid ass." Dean's voice was a low growl. The hunter's hand was already on the grip of his pistol, ready to draw it any second, even though it wouldn't help much against a demon and his hell hound. He mentally scolded himself for not having brought more and better weapons but there was nothing to be done about this now. If the worst should happen, he'd just call Castiel again.

"I'm here because this concerns me too, darlings. You see, some of those people belonged to me. They were brought back though and I really don't like losing my souls to some little rascal trying to play with big guy toys."

Crowley smirked and straightened his tie but his smile didn't reach his eyes. If Sam didn't know it better, he'd have guessed the demon was under a lot of stress right now, and the younger Winchester wasn't sure if this should make him happy or deeply disturb him.

They were interrupted by the screeching sound of a door opening followed by a high-pitched scream.

"Looks like we got company, boys. I'm out of here, have fun!"

The demon just disappeared, leaving the brothers to share a quick looks before running out of the room to investigate the scream. In the hallway, they encountered a middle aged woman, propped up against the wall, clutching a wound on her side and panting heavily.

"Are you okay? What happened?"

Sam immediately was by her side, putting one of his big hands on her shoulder to calm her down, but it didn't seem to help much. The woman was bleeding like a skewered pig and the younger Winchester knew she'd be dead soon if they didn't get her help. She wasn't even able to give them an answer, just whimpered and sobbed as she tried not to lose consciousness.

"Sam…look at this".

Dean had opened the door and was looking staring at what was happening in the streets. People were fleeing, screaming in terror and the source of their panic soon appeared around a corner. There were more than twenty of them, men, women and children, and they were all very clearly dead. Still, their various stages of decay didn't seem to stop them from running after their victims with astounding speed. Only once did one of them trip over his intestines, hanging out of the huge hole in his belly.

"You ready for the zombie apocalypse, Dean?"

"Ready or not, here they come!"

The brothers had no other chance than to leave the dying woman behind. Drawing their weapons, they ran outside, positioning themselves between the zombies and their fleeing victims. The first of their opponents went down when Sam shot half of his face off, but the others were harder to kill. The bastards moved so goddamn fast and shooting them in any other place then the head only stopped them for a few seconds.

"We should've brought more ammo!" Dean growled as he finally landed his first headshot. They were down to 15 of these former humans, and they had circled them, attacking from all sides at once now.

"It's Resident Evil all over again!" Sam replied, kicking a zombie that got too close to the ground before he cut its head off with his knife, trying to save as much of their precious ammo as possible.

The brothers were surrounded, there was no way to escape and it started to look rather bad for them. Dean called out for Cas, hoping his angelic friend still had enough mojo left to hear his prayers and come to their rescue, but when he still wasn't there five minutes later, the older Winchester started to really get nervous.

"Fuck, we're so screwed!"

Sam would've never guessed it would end this way. It seemed so banal, being killed by zombies, when they survived the apocalypse, leviathans and more demons than they could count. He saw his brother severing the heads of two of these monsters with a single, clean stroke of his knife, but there were still too many of these creatures.

Their rescue was as sudden as it was unexpected. They were down to only eight zombies, and to their great surprise, they just tumbled over and fell to the ground. It was silent on the streets then, and the brothers looked at each other in confusion. They would never complain about escaping certain death once again, but finding a cheap way out left them with a feeling of uneasiness. A polite cough brought their attention to two women standing about 10 meters away from them. One of them was unmistakably Eva, though she looked different than on the photo in Phil's house. Her bare shoulders were covered in various tattoos and her black dress was torn and tattered. A purple scarf was wrapped around her fair hair and the red spectacles resting on her thin nose missed a glass. Her slender arm was put around the other woman who had impossibly dark skin, black dreadlocks reaching down to her shoulders and wore a really skimpy, red polka dot dress. She smoked a cigar and leaned on an elegant, black staff.

"Look, Nibo, it seems we finally found them. These are the little fuckers who last saw my husband. We finally found them…or rather they found us." the woman looking like Phil's daughter purred softly.

"Will they have answers for us, _maman_?" The other woman asked, though her voice, while rather high-pitched and nasal, was definitely male.

"What the…? Eva? Look, uh, we're friends of your dad. He asked us to find you. He's worrying about you, Eva."

Irritation was written on Sam's face and he found his own expression mirrored on his brother. This was just beyond weird, even for their standards.

"Possession?" Dean whispered into Sam's ear. The older Winchester's hand was still on the grip of his pistol, ready to shoot should the women prove to be any kind of danger. His brother just shrugged.

"I'm not Eva, child. I'm here for answers you little shit, so you better only speak when spoken to. We're looking for Angels. It was an Angel who killed my husband and I demand justice for the crimes against my family and my people."

"Look, uh…lady, we don't really know what you're talking about. I think you got the wrong guys."

Sam was careful and diplomatic as always, but it seemed to work little on these women.

"_Maman_ is never wrong! I can smell the Angels on you, so don't you deny it. You saw papa die and we want answers. You have until midnight to bring us an Angel. We'll wait for you at the first St. Louis Cemetery and should you fail to meet our demands, we'll bring everyone buried there back to life."

With these words, both women just disappeared, leaving behind the corpses scattered around the brothers and a faint scent of cigar smoke.

"Okay…I'm calling Cas. This is serious shit." Dean mumbled, still staring at the spot where seconds ago the women had been.


End file.
